


A Slight Miscalculation

by a_m_c_7



Series: A Slight Miscalculation [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action, BAMF Sebastian Moran, Complete, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, Hurt Jim Moriarty, Jim Makes An Error, Jim Trying to Be Cool, Jim is a Little Shit, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Not as planned, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_m_c_7/pseuds/a_m_c_7
Summary: In which Jim tries (and fails) to make a dramatic entrance. Or: the story of how Sebastian Moran met Jim Moriarty.----The man blinked, the movement exaggerated as if for dramatic effect. “I may have miscalculated slightly.”“Miscalculated?”“Yes, my dear, miscalculated."





	A Slight Miscalculation

The bar was stuffy, dirty, and cramped. Cramped not because it boasted a large number of patrons, but rather because of its low ceilings and poor ventilation. In fact, Sebastian Moran (formerly of the 22 SAS Regiment and – following a minor disagreement with a commanding officer – currently a member of the disowned, ex-military gun-for-hire club) was one of the bar’s few customers, and certainly the most pleasant of them. At least according to the bartender, a petite woman with dyed black hair and too many facial piercings, who kept raking her eyes over him longingly.

Sebastian met her eye from where he sat at the bar. She flushed, caught out, and made sure to avert her eyes as she walked over.

“Yeah?” she asked, voice raspy from what Sebastian estimated was about a decade of smoking.

“Another.” He gestured to his now-empty glass and added belatedly: “Please.”

She nodded, went to fetch a bottle of whisky, and poured a shot into Sebastian’s glass.

“Ta.” He knocked the shot back and then stood, leaving payment (plus a few extra quid as a tip – he wasn’t a complete arse) on the bar.

The door’s hinges squealed as Sebastian pushed it open. Outside, it was raining, a light drizzle that felt refreshing on Sebastian’s skin, and in the sky a full moon managed to peak through the clouds. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, Sebastian walked past flickering street lamps and turned into an alleyway that shortened the trip back to his flat by three minutes and fifteen seconds.

Or would have, if he wasn’t stopped by the sound of several – four? no, three – sets of footsteps approaching from behind.

The other footsteps halted when he did. Sebastian turned on his heel to face three rough-looking men. They were all fit, though one was bigger than the others, muscles bulky underneath his clothing. A burn scar marred the face of one of the smaller men, and the other had a tattoo on his neck. Sebastian caught the glint of a knife in the hand of the tallest and bulkiest of them.

Suddenly the alleyway was bursting with movement. Knife Guy rushed at Sebastian, the others fanning out to flank him. Sebastian’s hand twitched involuntarily in the direction of his pistol, despite his mind knowing that the weapon would do little good against three opponents at such close range. Instead, he sidestepped the swing of the knife, catching a punch to his ribs from Scar Face and only narrowly escaping the grasp of Neck Tattoo. Avoiding the others’ blows as best he could for the moment, Sebastian reached out as Knife Guy swung the knife again, trapping the man’s arm and twisting until he heard a _snap_. The man howled and dropped the knife, which clattered to the ground. Sebastian kneed him in the groin several times, and he went to his knees.

Neck Tattoo got a hold on Sebastian from behind, allowing Scar Face to get a few good punches in while he was trapped between the two men. Sebastian hooked his leg behind one of Neck Tattoo’s and bent down to flip him over his shoulder and on to the ground, his feet catching Scar Face on the head on the way. Scar Face reeled back long enough for Sebastian to bring his foot down hard on Neck Tattoo’s throat.

Scar Face rushed at Sebastian again. Sebastian raised his arms to block the fists aimed at his face and in his peripheral vision saw Knife Guy standing up. Sebastian struck Scar Face’s solar plexus, causing him to double over, and brought a knee up to his face several times. Scar Face fell, his broken nose gushing blood.

Knife Guy was at Sebastian’s side, swinging the blade with his uninjured arm and catching Sebastian just above his left hip before he managed to move out of the way. Sebastian moved backward, dodging several more slashes of the knife. Knife Guy brought the blade up for a downward swing. Sebastian extended his arm, stopping the movement, and delivered a punch to the man’s face with his free hand. Sebastian grabbed the man’s wrist, rotating the arm until Knife Guy’s grip on the knife slackened. Sebastian disarmed Knife Guy and stabbed the blade between the man’s ribs and into his heart. His body fell to the wet ground with a _thunk_ , the knife still in his chest.

Sebastian stood in the rain, breathing hard. His bottom lip was split, he had a black eye forming, and the gash on his side was dripping blood.

“Bravo, Sebastian,” a man’s voice called. Sebastian looked around for its source. “Well done. Better than expected, really.” The voice was soft and had an eerie lilting quality to it. Sebastian detected traces of an Irish accent.

Sebastian reached for his pistol as footsteps approached. The voice, as it turned out, belonged to a relatively small man in a well-fitting, posh suit. He looked out of place in the dingy alley.

“Don’t move,” Sebastian ordered, aiming his gun at the man.

“Oh, come now, Sebastian,” the man drawled and continued his approach.

Sebastian pulled the trigger.

The man, now sporting a bullet hole in his shoulder, had a look of utter disbelief on his face. “You _shot_ me.” He sank to his knees and brought his hand up to cover the wound.

Perplexed, Sebastian walked over to the man and hovered over him threateningly, now aiming the gun at his head. “Who are you?”

The man looked up at him, frowning. “There was no need to shoot me, you idiot. This suit is Westwood, you know.”

“I disagree. You sent three guys to kill me. Now, why are you here?”

The man blinked, the movement exaggerated as if for dramatic effect. “I may have miscalculated slightly.”

“Miscalculated?”

“Yes, my dear, _miscalculated_. You see, that was merely your audition.”

“Audition for what?” Sebastian chose not to comment on the pet name.

“I wish to hire you. Well, I did. Now I’m unsure, as you seem rather prone to shooting me.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrow. “Wait. So, you wanted to hire me, and you decided the best way to do so would be to send thugs after me, see if I could fend them off successfully, and then – what? Make some dramatic entrance?”

The man pursed his lips. “Yes. Well. As I have said, a slight miscalculation.”

Sebastian laughed. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

The man’s rather intense gaze put a halt to Sebastian’s laughter. “Jim Moriarty.”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Sebastian swallowed. “Like… _the_ Moriarty?”

Sebastian had heard of Moriarty before. Nothing concrete, nothing specific. Just whispered rumors and hushed stories about a man who was more than a man, who could fix your problems, who worked from the shadows. Moriarty the consulting criminal. The most dangerous man in England, some said.

“The one and only, my dear.” Moriarty’s wide grin did not reach his eyes.

Sebastian had just shot the most dangerous man in England.

“Oh.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Alright, then. Here, let me help you up.”

Sebastian put his gun away and held out a hand to Moriarty, who looked at it with some distaste before grasping it. Sebastian helped him stand. They stood in silence for a moment, Moriarty watching Sebastian with his head titled slightly as if in deep thought.

“You know,” Sebastian ventured, “in future, you should listen to a guy who’s got a gun aimed at you. If only so I don’t lose my source of employment.”

Moriarty smiled slowly, and this time it did reach his eyes. “Now where would be the fun in that, Sebastian?”


End file.
